Rhian struggled to recall what the hell they’d been talking about. “Serg says they’re looking at me to cover them while they’ve got a ton of injuries. It’s probably only temporary.”
“You’ll make it permanent. Though the Ice Cats will be happy to work something out if you need to come back.”
Rhian was flattered by Garrick’s confidence, and oddly comforted by the idea he could return to Moncton—particularly given his life’s goal was to make it to the NHL and never look back. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m sure I am.”
Rhian wanted to ask how Garrick was so certain, but he didn’t want to seem like he was fishing for compliments. Besides, they were pulling into Garrick’s driveway. They were almost home.
Chapter Eleven
Rhian slowly climbed the farmhouse stairs with Garrick behind him, wondering which way Rhian would go once he got to the top. Would he turn for the guest room he’d crashed in a time or two in the past, or the master suite in the opposite direction?
Garrick wasn’t sure which would be better. He knew what he wanted, at a very simple and physical level. But he was also grappling with the guilt of lying to Rhian in the car.
He knew what Rhian’s contract said because he’d read it. Maybe Reese shouldn’t have allowed him to yet, but no one thought the deal was going to be blocked, and as the current owner, Reese had full access already.
He also knew the Ice Cats would take Rhian back because every roster report, team analysis, coach, trainer, manager, and player on the team, agreed that Rhian was the best they had. For once, the decision would be right for the team and not conflict with Garrick’s innate desire to see his friend succeed.
The only thing Garrick hadn’t lied about was that the Bruins would never give Rhian back once they’d seen what he could do. Oh, and the sex. He hadn’t been lying about wanting whatever this thing was to be more than a one-time event.
But given everything else that had happened, it might be better if they held off on that. He was tired. Rhian looked beat. Maybe they should go to their separate corners and talk about it again in the bright light of day. Five days of the cold shoulder had been an effective reminder that even stupendous sex wasn’t worth sacrificing a friendship.
Rhian stepped onto the upstairs landing and stared at the wall ahead. Garrick stopped next to him, studying his profile.
“It’s up to you,” Garrick said gently, though not without a pang of guilt.
Rhian looked at him. “What is this?”
It was a fair question. “Friendship?”
Rhian arched one brow.
“Okay, friendship and sex,” Garrick clarified. “And before you ask, it’s new to me too, so I don’t know.”
“Before I ask what?”
He thought about that. “I don’t know.”
Rhian smiled. “So you don’t know the answer or the question?”
Garrick shot him a dirty look. “Fuck you.”
Rhian laughed. “That’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it?”
Just like that, arousal exploded in Garrick, draining the blood from his head and forcing it south.
“Wow,” Rhian said softly.
“What?”
“Your eyes just got darker.”
Savannah had mentioned they did that sometimes. Garrick shrugged, struggling to trample down his rampaging hormones.
Rhian turned to face him. “I want it…”
Hormone wrangling was now officially a lost cause.
“…but I’m nervous. Before you, I’d never been with anyone I knew.”
Garrick stilled. “Ever?”
“Not really. I mean, I’d met some a time or two before we, you know, hooked up or whatever. And I saw some afterwards. But never for sex. Never more than once. Or one night. A weekend once.” He shrugged. “You get the idea.”
Garrick did. Rhian was hardly the first person he’d met, or been with, who could make such a claim. Though this was, to Garrick’s knowledge, the first time he’d been the one to break the cycle.
“I think we have to be clear,” Garrick said thoughtfully.
Rhian nodded. “Okay.”
“We’re friends first. All decisions take that into account and we don’t do anything to fuck it up.”
Rhian let go a deep breath. “Yes. Good.”
“That means we err on the side of caution. Communicate expectations.”
“Agreed.” Rhian cocked his head. “So, what are your expectations?”
Garrick rolled his eyes. “Shit, you would have to ask that.”
“Dude, you’re the one who brought it—”
“Sorry. No, you’re right.” Garrick put up a hand to give himself a moment to piece his thoughts together into something intelligible. “I’m leaving for Boston in a few months. You may well get snapped up by a major team before then. Until one of those two things happens, we spend whatever time we’re comfortable spending, doing whatever it is we’re comfortable doing. We both have the ability to end this aspect of our friendship at any time for whatever reason. As does Savannah, to be honest. The only requirement is that any change is communicated promptly and clearly.”
“In triplicate?”
“Really? I’m just trying to do what you—”
Rhian grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed their mouths together. Garrick fell into the kiss, threading his tongue into Rhian’s mouth, the low simmer of arousal boiling over in a lip-locked instant.
It was a long, hot minute before either of them came up for air.
“Wow,” Garrick said, wondering what the hell had just happened.
“It’s kinda sexy when you talk like an MBA,” Rhian admitted, his cheeks turning pink. He released Garrick’s shirt and made a futile attempt to smooth the wrinkles with his fingers.
“Is that a yes?” Garrick asked, practically gasping from the surge of lust.
“Yes.”
Rhian moaned into Garrick’s mouth. Standing in the hallway, he melted under the onslaught of need as their tongues warred. His eyes slid shut when Garrick’s big, warm palms clasped his face, controlling the depth and angle of the kiss.
Rhian was still nervous, but it was easy to let it go when they were doing this.
Strong arms wrapped around him and hauled his body, shoulder to knee, against Garrick. Garrick’s erection was smashed against his belly and Rhian pressed forward, desperate to feel more, and almost dumped them both on their asses when their feet tangled with his bag, forgotten on the hallway floor.
Garrick steadied them with his shoulder against the wall and laughed into their kiss without stopping his assault on Rhian’s mouth. It wasn’t easy to maneuver when neither of them seemed willing to break apart, but they eventually managed to kick free of his bag’s shoulder strap and stumble toward the bedroom door.
A glimpse of Garrick’s big bed cleared Rhian’s arousal-soaked brain enough for a whisper of unease to sneak in. There were things he ought to tell Garrick. More clarification might be needed. Rhian hadn’t ever had a man, or anything really, in his—
Rhian gasped when his back hit the doorjamb. The wood trim tucked into the crease of his ass, hitching the seam of his jeans jammed against his balls just as Garrick’s thigh wedged between his.
Rhian hummed.
This was good. Irresistibly good. Which should have been scary, but his bag was in the hall, the guest room just beyond. They’d do this, whatever it led to, then he’d go crash.
Garrick’s explanation of how this thing could work made sense. Friends. Hook-ups. Temporary. The only one of those concepts Rhian wasn’t well familiar with was the friendship part, and he seemed to be getting the hang of that. If they both stuck to the rules and bailed if needed, they should be okay.
It wasn’t that complicated.
Garrick tore his mouth away. Rhian immediately tried to pull him back.
“Wait,” Garrick gasped, catching his hands. “I refuse to do this in a doorway when the bed is right there.”
Rhian wanted to stare at all that lovely skin and heavy cock for hours. Yanking his shirt over his head, he laughed when nimble fingers popped open his fly in the second he was blinded.
Rhian’s pants were shoved to the floor while he was still trying to kick off his shoes. He would have fallen over if Garrick hadn’t caught him.
“Shit, that’s still hot,” Garrick muttered as he rubbed a palm over one of Rhian’s bare ass cheeks.
“What?”
“You never wear underwear.”
Actually, he did sometimes, just not often. Hadn’t since middle school when one particular foster mother had failed to notice he had two pairs, total. She’d had a tendency to freak if any of the kids in her care told her they needed to buy something, so Rhian had opted for more jock straps for hockey practice and learned to go commando the rest of the time.
Rhian didn’t tell Garrick that, since it was pathetic crap. Instead, he enjoyed the look on Garrick’s face as he stared down at Rhian’s eager cock, groaning happily when Garrick’s warm fingers wrapped around him and started a series of long, slow pumps.
He jumped when Garrick’s lips brushed his neck, then nibbled across his Adam’s apple. The air touching the wet skin Garrick left behind prickled like an icy finger running down his back. He shivered.
“You’re cold,” Garrick said.
Rhian lifted his head, a monumental effort. He supposed he was chilled, standing bare-assed naked in an antique farmhouse in the middle of the night in the dead of winter in New Brunswick. It seemed kind of inevitable. And unimportant.
“Here.” Garrick pushed him toward the bed and folded back the thick flannel sheets and fluffy down comforter.
Rhian shivered again. The bed did look really nice and warm. He climbed in and settled on his back while Garrick pulled up the covers. Garrick smoothed the sheets under Rhian’s chin, fussing with him like an old woman.
Rhian laughed. “Gee, thanks for tucking me in.”
Garrick’s slow smile made Rhian’s heart skip in his chest. “I’ll be right back.”
This time his shiver had nothing to do with the temperature.
Garrick moved around the room, shutting off lights and disappearing into the bathroom. The heavy bedding, already warmed from his body heat, pressed down on Rhian. The soft pillows against his cheek smelled like Garrick.
He wasn’t sure when he closed his eyes, but he smiled and peeled them open when cool air slipped beneath the covers a moment before Garrick’s big, warm body bumped against his.
Garrick chuckled. “You falling asleep on me?”
“No,” Rhian lied.
“Uh huh,” Garrick murmured, urging him to roll over.
He did it without thinking, still hovering on the verge of sleep until Garrick’s body curled around his from behind. Oh no! Rhian snapped fully awake, memories of their last time together crowding his mind. He thought about his bag in the hallway, his intention to sleep on his own.
The crisp click of a cap snapping closed yanked him from his spiraling anxiety. He watched Garrick’s glistening hand disappear under the covers. The coarse hairs on Garrick’s forearm tickled along Rhian’s chest, over his hip, before his cock was enveloped in a cool, slippery fist.
Pleasure fired through him, the surge of adrenaline brought on by nerves rerouted to searing arousal. He bucked into Garrick’s hand, forcing his shaft through the reservoir of lube, slicking himself to the hilt. Screwing his eyes shut, he moaned and bit his lip to help him focus on the exquisite sensations.
“You like that?” Garrick growled against his ear, his snug fist pumping steadily.
Is he fucking kidding? Rhian managed to burble something that sounded like “yes.”
Garrick’s hand tightened as it slid up and over the crown, his strong grip just on the good side of painfully firm. Perfect. Rhian’s hips shot backward when his cock popped loose from that vise, as if shying away from the pleasure. His ass bumped against Garrick’s stomach and trapped his cock between them.
Garrick hissed out a breath. “Careful.”
Rhian stilled.
Garrick slipped his arm under Rhian’s waist and curled around him, pinning him back against Garrick’s wide chest. The thumb and index finger of Garrick’s other hand wrapped around the base of Rhian’s shaft, the rest of his fingers splayed to cradle Rhian’s balls.
Heat streamed off Garrick’s body and poured into Rhian, the power of the arms wrapped around him mesmerizing. Rhian hung suspended, his body screaming at him to move, his brain patiently waiting for Garrick to do as he wished.
Chapter Twelve
Garrick had never so completely held a lover in his hands. Literally and figuratively. Rhian’s package was cradled in his palm, hard and hot. But it was the air of patient expectation, the hovering stillness awaiting his command, his any wish, that absolutely blew Garrick away.
Rhian gave himself over in response to some need they hadn’t discussed and might never bother to name. It was just there, and it worked.
Slowly, Garrick stroked his fingers over the tender skin of Rhian’s sac, rolling his balls, the pad of one finger slipping back to slick along the hidden seam of skin beyond. He loosened his hold around Rhian’s chest, silently granting him permission to move. Rhian wriggled against the barrage of sensations Garrick thoroughly enjoyed poking and rubbing from his body—and not just because Rhian’s gyrations worked Garrick’s aching shaft into the valley of his ass.
Garrick loved how Rhian’s body offered an endless stream of honest feedback. Garrick pumped a tight grip along the length of Rhian’s cock, and Rhian’s hips rotated in counterpoint. He brushed his fingers along Rhian’s perineum and elicited a perfect needy sound from the back of Rhian’s throat. Garrick was the conductor, Rhian his symphony. Garrick closed his eyes and absorbed every lesson to be learned about what Rhian wanted. Needed.
His fist picked up speed. Rhian’s hips followed. Desire swelled, driving them on, driving them up toward crescendo. Garrick was lost to the little noises, the way his lover’s eyes were screwed shut, his mouth open in a silent cry. He drowned in the sight of Rhian’s ecstasy, his heart banging against his ribs at Rhian’s surrender, Rhian’s bliss at giving Garrick control.
Garrick was damn close to blowing until his dry shaft dragged along Rhian’s burning skin one too many times and the intense friction became painful.
Groaning, he pulled his hips away, giving himself room.
“No,” Rhian muttered, his hips losing rhythm to wriggle back toward Garrick.
Garrick wrapped his fist around the base of Rhian’s cock and stilled, a silent command in his firm grip. Rhian immediately subsided. He whimpered when Garrick released him.
Garrick grinned and leaned over to brush his lips against Rhian’s. “Can we try something?”
Rhian faltered, the flicker of unease communicated through the thousands of points where their bodies touched. His eyes slid open.
“What do you have in mind?” Rhian asked, his husky voice belied by his narrowed, nervous gaze.
Garrick had more ideas running through his head than he knew what to do with, but he discarded most of them and poured another pool of lube into his palm. Rhian’s eyes tracked his movements.
Garrick slid his arms back beneath the covers and nudged Rhian’s thigh. “Lift up a little.”
Rhian hesitated
“It will be good. I promise.”
He smiled, gratified when Rhian’s knee lifted enough for Garrick to ease his slippery hand between solid, well-muscled thighs. He pulled his cock forward, groaning as he slicked his own shaft, and Rhian’s thighs and perineum in the process.
“Now,” he purred against Rhian’s neck,
“close 'em tight.”
“What?”
“Trust me,” he whispered.
Rhian let his leg fall, trapping Garrick’s cock between his thighs.
“Oh,” Rhian gasped. The muscles in his thighs bunched and released.
“Hmmm…” Garrick agreed, his eyes nearly crossing at the clench of hot, slippery skin. He nudged his hips forward and groaned. Wrapping one fist around Rhian’s cock and pressing the other to Rhian’s belly, he settled himself against his lover’s back.
His next thrust fired bolts of raw pleasure up his spine, tightening his muscles until he clung to Rhian. He buried his face against Rhian’s neck, his groan muffled by warm skin and soft hair.
His movements took up a rhythm. His entire existence narrowed down to the snap of his hips, the squeeze of his fingers. Rhian lay wide-eyed, his hard thighs squeezed tightly together. If Garrick closed his eyes, he could imagine their strength, how they flexed when Rhian ran, or lifted, or hell—just walked. He’d never guessed they would feel this good. That he would ever have an opportunity to learn their texture, their strength, so intimately.
He thrust harder and jerked Rhian’s cock with punishing force and speed. Garrick’s shaft slipped higher with each long drive. On the next, he slid into the hot valley between Rhian’s ass and thighs and rubbed over his hole.
Rhian arched his neck and shouted unintelligibly. Garrick pressed harder, moved faster. Rhian smashed his face against the mattress and groaned. The next thrust burned along Rhian’s perineum until the crown of Garrick’s cock nudged hard against the back of Rhian’s tight balls.
Garrick’s big, strong, tough hockey-playing lover let out a sob of pure unadulterated need.
Garrick shuddered and thrust again. And again.
Rhian writhed against him, his cries hoarse. He clenched Garrick’s hip with one hand, urging him on, the other scrabbling across the bed to gather a fistful of sheets to anchor them both.
“Harder. Faster,” Rhian ground out, his voice hardly more than a whisper between his panting moans. His cock swelled against Garrick’s palm.
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